Dirty Grovel: EPILOGUE

Two weeks after our surprise wedding, our daughter decides to make her grand entrance.

She’s almost a month ahead of schedule.

I was puttering around the garden, ignoring Oleg’s pleas to rest and take it easy, when my water broke.

I had to suffer a barrage of “I told you so’s” as he drove me to the hospital with Sydney holding my hand in the backseat.

Now, I’m strapped to a bed, my cervix is on fire, and Oleg has finally stopped yelling at me about the third trimester gardening.

In fact, I’ve never seen my beastly husband look so scared.

He’s pale as chalk. His lips are chapped and dry and there seems to be a permanent crease in his forehead.

I would love to be able to comfort him, but every time I try, my stomach explodes with pain.

“Dear God, if this is what childbirth is like, why do women have babies?” I scream, sweat dripping down the sides of my face.

“Because at the end of it, you get a beautiful little angel,” Oksana answers, sweeping into the room in a rose-colored dress.

She’s also carrying a bouquet of flowers. Yellow elders, of course, because she knows I’m partial to them.

I’ve got to hand it to her—she’s really been trying the last few months. I get gifts on the daily with thoughtful notes in her flawless handwriting. Diamond necklaces, state-of-the-art breast bumps, a stroller lined with cashmere…

It’s a lot, but you won’t catch me complaining.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Oksana asks, turning to me.

Her red dress actually hurts my eyes.

Or maybe it’s the fact that she’s more than twice my age and she looks poised and put together, whereas I feel like a bloated cow who’s about to explode.

Not exactly the boost of confidence you need right before you push a human being out of your pelvis.

“Geez,” I mutter before I can stop myself. “Your waist is tiny. It’s plain rude walking in here like that.”

Sydney, who’s massaging my back, hides her laugh behind a fake cough that turns into a real one. Faye and Mara make hasty excuses and scurry out of the hospital suite. Only Oleg manages to keep a straight face.

“Moya zhena, you’re about to have a baby.”

“And whose fault is that?!” I snap.

He smiles. “I’ll happily claim responsibility,” he says before turning to his mother. “Maman, maybe you can get Sutton some ice chips?”

Oksana nods. “I’ll be right back.”

“Your mother hates me,” I groan when she’s gone, buckling forward to try to stave off another contraction. “That’s the only reason she would show up here looking like that while I… look like this.”

Oleg smiles patiently. “The renovations on the daycare are looking spectacular by the way. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“You’re trying to distract me,” I accuse.

Chuckling, Oleg tries to kiss the top of my head.

“Don’t!” I say. “I’m sweaty and disgusting. You don’t want to touch me.”

“Actually, I do,” he says easily, picking up my hand and holding it to his heart. “I’m not afraid of a little sweat.”

I let out a gritted scream as another contraction wracks my body. They seem to be getting more and more painful, and closer and closer together.

“How many minutes between contractions?” I ask my sister.

Sydney bites her bottom lip. “Eh…”

“You were supposed to be keeping time!” I cry, ready to throw a full-on hissy fit.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted,” she says apologetically, backing away from me like I’ll bite if she’s too close.

Good move—I might.

“Where are you going?”

Her gaze darts to Oleg. “To… erm… check on things.”

“Things?” I say. “What things? Everything is happening in here!”

“I think Jesse’s back with a bag of your clothes,” she says, pretending to have heard something from outside my suite. “Lemme go check.”

“Liar!” I yell at her retreating back.

As the door swings shut again, I turn to the last man standing. The beautiful man who hasn’t left my side since they wheeled me in here hours ago.

“Did I just clear the whole damn room?”

He gently sidesteps the question. “How about I take over the massaging?”

I sigh noisily. “I’m being a bitch, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t so much as crack a smile. “You’re allowed.” Wincing, I grab his hand, another contraction scouring through my insides. “What does it feel like?”

My eyes open. He’s blurry for a moment and only then, do I realize there are tears in my eyes.

Tears of pain.

“It feels like someone’s taking a curling iron to my ovaries.”

He gets in behind me and supports my back with his chest. Then he grips both my hands. “Squeeze as hard as you want. I’ve got you.”

I’ve gotta admit, those words do lessen the pain. “Aaargh!” I scream, the tears dripping down the sides of my face. “Oleg!”

“It’s okay, baby, you’ve got this. Your contractions are coming close together now. Only thirty seconds apart. It’s almost time.”

“The d-doctor,” I stammer. “Where is the⁠—?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already paged the nurses. They’re coming.”

Sure enough, a few seconds later, the door bursts open and the doctor appears, accompanied by a trio of nurses, all of whom have their game faces on.

I crane my head back against Oleg’s chest. “I’m scared…”

“Me, too,” he whispers back.

And again, that makes me feel infinitely better.

The next few minutes pass in a blur of pain and blood and screams. I hear the doctor giving me instructions in a soothing voice, but I can’t for the life of me remember what he said a second later.

All I can pay attention to is the way Oleg clasps my hand.

The way his solid presence at my back helps me push out our baby.

The way his cool lips press against my temple the moment we hear that first, tentative cry.

“She’s here!” the doctor announces as I watch the squirming mass between my legs give way to a mewling baby.

It’s so much easier to concentrate now that the pain has subsided.

Now that it’s over, I can feel the joy.

I can taste the love.

“It’s a girl,” Oleg murmurs to me. “We have a daughter.”

For the first time since my contractions started, I laugh. A daughter! Deep down, I always knew it would be a girl.

Once she’s clean and wrapped in the white cashmere blanket that Oksana gifted us, our baby girl is handed to Oleg. He stares down at her, his eyes totally focused and totally mesmerized.

Have you ever watched a person fall in love in real time?

It’s like nothing else I’ve ever seen before. Slow motion and yet it all happens so fast.

He changes, right before my eyes.

And I change right along with him.

“Here, baby girl. Time to meet your mama,” Oleg murmurs as he places the child in my arms.

She tries to open her eyes and I catch a glimpse of fierce blue. “Oh my God, I think she has my eyes.”

“Your nose, too,” Oleg observes.

“But the rest of her is you,” I laugh. “She’s the perfect mix.”

“What should we name her?”

I’ve been ruminating on her name for weeks now. And there’s one choice I keep going back to over and over again.

“I know it’s grandiose—and you have veto power of course,” I tell Oleg. “But what do you think about Ophelia?”

He smiles. “Another ‘O’ huh?”

“I thought we’d keep the tradition going. I was thinking… Ophelia Oriana Pavlov.”

For the first time since I’ve known him, Oleg’s eyes well up with tears.

He leans down to kiss me, an arm heavy and warm around my shoulders.

“I think it’s perfect,” he whispers. “Should I get the others in here? They’ll be anxious to meet little Ophelia.”

“In a minute. I want it to be just the three of us for a little while longer.”